


I think I saw you

by Sourest_Cherry_Scone_Baby



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: 19 years later post wayward son to be precise, :'), Its angst time with me, M/M, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Simon is depressed, and also shake him by his shoulders because HOW COULD YOU SIMON, barely adult me is tryna write 40 year ols, guys seriously this fic just hurts, i hope i did a good job yall, i hope it doe, i tried to make it a happy-ish ending, i wanna hug him, mwahahaha weep now, my tags are a disaster and I have zero regrets, shit hurts, the second chapter applies balm on your heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28765092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sourest_Cherry_Scone_Baby/pseuds/Sourest_Cherry_Scone_Baby
Summary: "Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They are in each other all along."-RumiTwo small oneshots inspired by SHARKMARTINI's "Forgetting is so long".
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 22
Kudos: 44





	1. Suits and Ties

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SHARKMARTINI](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHARKMARTINI/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Forgetting is so long](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23960356) by [SHARKMARTINI](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHARKMARTINI/pseuds/SHARKMARTINI). 



> That fic killed me in the best possible way and I really want you guys to read it like !!! It had been ages since I had cried that hard after reading a fic.  
> Anyhow I hope yall enjoy this!

**SIMON**

I feel very out of place.

Suits and ties have never been my thing. I have been told multiple times that I look nice in formal wear but I don't really care about it. The only reason I'm here to buy one is because the Watford reunion is around the corner and I guess not looking like I've just rolled out of my bed is a necessity.

Plus he might show up.

Oh, who am I kidding. This new haircut, these suits that I'm going through, the tie I'll buy... Everything, I have been doing- I'm doing it all with him in my mind. He might not even show up, he might just keep himself at his home, deciding we all are too lowly to be honored by his company. All this preparation might go to waste.

But, he _might_ show up. He is nothing if he is not extremely unpredictable.

I don't know if I really want to see him or if don't want to see him at all.

I'm willing to bet my arse that he probably is still in prime and that he has got a perfect partner who loves him better than I ever did. He must have a bloody beautiful home and everything that he deserves. Everything that I could not ever have dreamed of giving him.

Fuck, I don't know how I let myself get talked into attending the event. It's not too late to bail out, though. I can probably give some lame excuse and no one will bother. It's not like they are gonna miss me or anything. I can avoid it easily enough.

Or I can let myself be brave for once and face the music. Face _him_. Shake his hand and tell him that I wish him the very best. Act like it doesn't hurt, even after all these years. 

I'll never stop being a masochist. 

With a sigh, I glance at a boring blue suit that looks hideous. I wonder why they have even kept it here, it's not like this thing will be bought by anyone. Utter waste of cloth, if I say so myself. 

"Good evening, sir. Do you need any help?"

I turn around to see a store employee smiling at me, hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She looks young, no older than twenty five.

"Er-No. No thanks."

But she keeps hovering around. Of course she does. I always do feel so bad for employees like her. They just have to hang around and be awkward and help idiots like me. I'll probably never survive a job like this. Not that I'm very successful in my current job either. I've always been shitty at everything.

Including shopping.

I don't know what to wear, don't know why I'm here. Maybe I should probably wear some old suit, I must have something lying around. Why am I torturing myself with this? Fuck knows what that girl must be thinking of me as I try to pick up something decent. Anything that'll help me look like a dignified retired chosen one.

I like that word, retired. In a very strange way, it makes me feel better. Like I actually did a good job at being a chosen one and then when the time came, I took my leave with respect and satisfaction.

I pick up a grey suit, nothing too flashy or special. It's plain, simple and boring but in a comforting way. No way I'll wear that one with elbow patches, I'll look like a right fucking twat. Or that one with checks. Jesus, what is that? Is that supposed to be worn?

Maybe I can wear that brown one over there, that looks good too. Or that charcoal grey one. Or that deep green. Which of these will actually make me look good? Why haven't these scientists or whatever have created a personal assistant who can give you fashion advice? 

Fucking hell, I don't know what to buy. I wish someone was here to help me pick out something nice. I'm a forty year old man but I can't even buy my own damn clothes. What kind of loser is that?

I'm almost on the verge of a meltdown when my eyes land on a deep blue suit. It's got a nice color and finish but that's not what stops me. It's not just blue, it's got a fucking floral print too. It's too familiar. Even though the print is very different there is still an uncanny similarity that knocks the air out of my lungs.

I quickly grab one suit at a random and rush towards the employee who's still working nearby. On my way, I almost knock into a man who's looking at that boring blue suit with a keen interest. Stuttering out a string of apologies, I finally reach that girl who is suddenly very busy folding clothes.

"Umm-hey!" I'm almost screaming, so I lower my voice. "Hey I wanna buy this."

"Sure, sir." She says, nodding. Her eyes are wide as she gives me a cautious look. "Please come along for the payment."

Later in my car, I feel extremely stupid because of that freak out. It's not like he was going to materialize out of that suit but being a complete fucking idiot that I am, of course I ran away. It wasn't even that similar. It was just- just cloth. 

And I also forgot to buy a tie.

Oh fuck it. I'll just order one online. No way in hell I'm going back. That employee will probably just think I've lost my marbles, which in retrospect, wouldn't be a wrong assumption either.

It takes me a while to realize that I have driven past my home. The roads are unfamiliar but in a peculiar sort of way. Like if I concentrate hard enough, I am able to recall them. Somewhere in the dusty lanes of my memory, this way is familiar. 

It's just tragic that I escape him only to be pulled towards a place that screams his name.

I keep driving anyways.

\-------

I stay inside my car for awhile, contemplating whether I should stay or leave and forget everything about this.

But there really is no forgetting, is there? Because if I could, I would. I'd erase it all clean and not even remember his face or his smile. His laughs, so rare but so beautiful, his hair falling like a curtain and his butterfly touches. I'd forget them all if I could. But no matter what, I can't. Not just because it's impossible but also because forgetting him will kill me.

I step out of my car and shiver slightly. Night has fallen and though the air is cleaner here and the lights few, the stars are still not as bright as they could be. I cross the road and slowly walk towards the woods. 

The last time I saw them, they were ablaze. Set on fire by his fury, shame and sorrow. 

I try to remember where exactly I'd found him sitting in the middle of a ring of fire, where I'd taken his face in my hands, held him close. Where exactly it had all started. I don't know if I'm relieved or disappointed when I can't recall the spot.

I sit down under a tree on the ground and rest my head against its bark, looking up at the stars. I think back to the night when I'd shared my magic with him and we had been engulfed by the stars. The look on his face, the stars smiling back at me from his eyes. I wonder how I didn't realize then and there that I loved him. His hands in mine sent sparks throughout my body and I thought it was just my magic. That electric feeling of being infinite and he had been right there, sitting across from me.

Then I think of when we'd been together, _really_ been together, for the last time, all those years ago, in the back of Shepard's truck. It's inscribed in my memory, tarnished gold against black and I remember every touch, every breath, every thought. I'd wanted to tie our hearts together that night, anything that could have kept him with me, anything that could have fixed us. At times I wonder if I did get successful in doing that, tying my heart to his', because when I finally let him go, he didn't leave alone. He took with him my heart, my past, my present and my future.

Now I am thinking of what would have happened if I had not kissed him here that day, a lifetime ago. If I had somehow saved his life in some other way, if I had never loved him. I run my hands over the ground, drawing circles and I realize that I am smiling. Smiling at my own stupidity. 

Because no matter what happens, loving him is inevitable. It's like death. You can never escape death, it gets you in the end. Maybe its a bad metaphor but its apt. I'll never not love him.

In some other reality, though, maybe I'm not such a huge coward. Maybe there I'm not afraid to own up who I am and love him and let him love me without holding back. There I won't be shopping alone and he'll be helping me pick out something that'll make me look nice and he'll probably make me try out that boring blue suit just for the fun of it. There we'll be attending the reunion together and not wonder whether the other one will show up. There I'll wear a wedding band that's not a burden too heavy to carry but a token of comfort and eternity.

Everything that I don't have here, I'll have it there.

I feel like I'm going to start crying but when I look up at the stars, the tears just don't come.

Growing up, I'd been told multiple times that being an adult means your life becomes more certain. It all sounds like rubbish to me now. Uncertainties stare at my face from every aspect of my life.

But one thing, I'll always be sure of one thing: The stars will always remind me of him.

I get up and walk back to my car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BE READY FOR ANOTHER CHAPTER CAUSE I GOTTA GIVE MYSELF SOME SENSE OF CLOSURE.


	2. Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh oof this is slightly late but I had a physics test so cut me some slack, I guess.

**SIMON**

I should have called him by now. 

It's not like I have not tried. It's not like I don't want to either. Fuck, calling him has been on my mind ever since I saw him again two months back. I have almost called him multiple times.

Almost.

My fingers always stop before I can call him, they hover over the screen and refuse to move. My hands turn sweaty and cold and I just keep staring at his phone number, breaking into a cold sweat but I never have the courage to call. I don't know why I stop, why I am never able to call him, talk to him and just hear his voice. 

Maybe its because I've always been a coward. 

“'Morning Simon.”

I look up from my cuppa and see Jess entering the kitchen, showered and dressed like she's going out. It's unusual for her to get up this early on a Sunday, let alone have plans for the day. 

"Have you saved some for me?" She asks, gesturing towards the cup I'm holding in my hands.

I shake my head. "No. You sleep in late so I thought-"

"I told you I'd be up early today." She says, almost accusingly, and sets the water on boil. "I have to meet Anna."

I give her a blank stare.

"Anna, Simon. My friend Anna, remember? Anyways, it's her son's eighth birthday today and she's throwing a lunch party for his friends. I'm going to help her out with that."

She sighs and sits down on a chair in front of me.

"Don't you think children are just so lovely?"

I give a non committal grunt, suddenly acutely aware of the direction of this conversation. Maybe I should just casually get up and leave. Or try to talk about football. Or the weather.

"So is the weather today." I say.

She casts a skeptical look at the cloudy, grim sky without an iota of sunshine and says, "Yes. It's spectacular. So as I was saying-"

"I'm thinking of watching a movie today. Do you have any suggestions?"

"No. Simon-"

"Oh well. I think I'll just-"

"Stop it, Simon." She snaps. "Why aren't you letting me talk?"

"Because I do _not_ want to talk about what you are thinking." I growl back.

"So you're a mind reader now?" Her voice is dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm not. You've just become way too predictable."

"Then please, do tell me about what I was going to talk about."

I jut out my chin at her, getting ready for a fight. "A baby. You want a child of our own."

"And what's so wrong with that?"

"I don't think a baby is a good idea.” I say, trying my best to be calm. "A baby will not help, Jess. It really won't."

“I don't see how it will not help.” She says, stubbornly “A baby acts like a bridge-”

“It's a bloody baby Jess, not some goddamn structure. If we are not able to handle ourselves, how will we handle a baby?”

“It's a bloody metaphor, Simon. And we will learn. We will learn how to be responsible.”

I give a short, humorless laugh.

“I don't know about you, Jess, but I sure wouldn't learn. I know I won't be a good parent, it's better if I'm just not a parent at all.”

“Everyone feels like that. It's natural. We-”

“I don't want a baby!” I snarl, finally losing my temper and slamming down my cuppa on the table. “I don't want a baby! We'll just ruin the poor thing's life. Do you think that kid would be happy when they grow up and see that all their dad does on weekends is drink and pass out on the sofa? Or how about the fact that their mom is sometimes not able to get out of bed for days? You want your kid to be a fuck up because of two shitty parents?”

I let my biggest fears go unsaid. What if my child is magic? Or worse, what if they are _not?_

I get up and start pacing around the kitchen. "It's a shit idea. It'll never prevent what's eventually gonna happen. We are not the right match, Jess. You know that. We'll separate, eventually, and the more we delay it, the more messy it'll be. We'll just traumatize the kid."

“You are not even willing to try!” Jess shouts back, standing up and glaring at me. “You don't even want to fix this?”

“We've been trying for years, now. When was the last time we actually enjoyed each other's company and did not just fucking tolerate it? In fact, fuck it all, when did we even sleep in the same bloody room last time? I don't want to spend my entire life trying! I'm tired. God fucking damn it, Jess. I'm just so tired. I'm so tired of not being loved. Of- of this. Of our so called marriage.”

I can feel the tears prickling at the back of my eyes, feel my shoulders droop. I stop pacing and fall back on my chair. 

“I don't want to fight with you everyday, I don't want to keep trying to fix things that can't be fixed. I don't- I don't want this anymore.” I whisper hoarsely and turn away from her.

I can feel her pale grey eyes boring into me. Like she's trying to figure out something, figure out me. 

“So you're just going to give up? Give up on everything? All those years?”

“If us separating and being far more happy than we are now is giving up then yes. I fucking want to give up. I want to give up.” I barrel forwards, rushing out with my words. I'm afraid I'll never get them out if not now. “We both deserve to be happy and we are not getting that happiness with each other. A baby won't help, Jess. It really won't help.”

There's a long, stretched out silence and I can hear my own breathing as I rub my eyes, forcing back my tears. Fuck, I hate crying. Especially in front of Jess.

"What's got into you?" She whispers. "You were never like this before."

She's right. I've never talked to her like this before. Earlier I'd just put it off and avoid talking about the baby thing, but I'd never been so outright opposed to it. And I sure as fuck had never talked about ending things with her. I had no reason to walk out, really, because I have never lived for myself.

But something shifted that night at Watford. That night when I had talked and he had just listened. How long had it been since I had talked like that? And then when he had pressed his thumb against the mole over my eyebrow, the expression on his face, the words that left his lips. And when he said that it'd be okay if I call.

That was when I realized that I can have a second chance at life. So what if it's coming twenty years late?

But I can't explain this all to Jess so I shrug and say, "Maya Angelou once said-"

"What's Maya Angelou got anything to do with any of this?"

"She has always played a role whenever I took big life decisions."

"You've gone mad." Jess says. "You really want to end this?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. I can't keep going on like this. And neither can you. Tell me, is this how you want to be for the rest of your life?"

"We can try and make it better." She says again, mechanically, and before I can say anything, she starts crying. "Fuck, Simon. No. I don't want to be miserable my whole life. Nobody wants that. But I- I don't know what to do? I'm just so confused. I don't want this either but fuck, I don't know what else I am supposed to do. I have no plans for the future, I don't know how to be happy. I don't even fucking remember what it feels like. I'm just trying my best, okay? I know it's not enough, but I just don't know what else to do. We both are fucking unhappy, I know that. But it's familiar. What will I do if you go? I can't cope with that. I can't fucking cope with changes, even if it's for my own good."

"You can, Jess." I say softly, and reach across to take her hand in mine. I give it a squeeze, but she keeps crying. "You are still the same person I met at that grief counselling. You'd lost your whole family but you were still there, trying to put yourself back together. You survived that, you lost everyone you loved, but you survived that. And, lets be honest here, you don't even really love me anymore, do you? Why won't you handle losing me? I'm not even gonna die."

I am aware how shit my comfort words are but they are better than nothing and Jess gives a watery snort so I think it's a win.

"I do care for you." She says. "I'm sorry, I don't love you anymore. I don't know how it happened, how it just... happened."

 _I'm sorry for never really loving you_ , I almost say. But I just squeeze her hand again.

"Shit happens. We were never really the right match, were we?"

"No." She admits softly. "No. I never felt sure about you. I liked you, maybe loved you at some point of time but we- I don't know. Fuck, we haven't talked about our feelings since forever. This feels awkward."

Just another reason why we don't belong.

I nod. "It does."

She sighs, rubs her face. "God, I had to help Anna. I just want to die right now."

"No dying. You go to sleep. I'll tell Anna that-"

"No. I'm not ditching her like this, that'd be awful. I'll go. I'll just go fix my makeup again." She sighs again and gets up. “And thank you, Simon. For being brave enough to shove that truth on my face. We both had been dancing around it for so long and just- yeah. I guess it was about time I saw things as they were.”

I can only nod, taken aback by her words.

"Are you okay?" I ask, clearing my throat. 

"I will be. You know I need time to accept this and get my shit together. But I'll be okay.”

“Okay.”

She nods again before she heads out of the kitchen.

Half an hour later, the front door clicks shut and she leaves to meet her friend. My cuppa has gone cold and I have no energy to get up and make myself another one. There's a whirlwind of thoughts in my head and I don't know what I am thinking or feeling. 

Brave. She called me brave.

I wasn't trying to be brave today, I was just doing what felt right to me. I was doing what is right for us. But then again, isn't that exactly what bravery is? Isn't it having the guts to do things that are right?

Maybe I _am_ slightly brave.

I quickly take out my phone and before I can spiral into a series of what-ifs and stupid second guesses, I call him.

He picks up after the third ring.

"Hello?"

Oh fuck. Oh Jesus. What do I say now?

"Um hello?" He says again, sounding slightly unsure now. "Simon?"

"Baz." I say, whisper almost. "Baz. Hey."

There's a momentary silence before he says, "Hey."

"Hey." God, we need to say something else. "I err- I'm not disturbing you, I hope."

"No. Not at all." Then quietly, he adds, "I'm glad you called."

"I'm glad too. I'm sorry it took me so long."

"Don't be. I wasn't expecting you to call me the same day either. It was okay to wait."

I can almost hear the unspoken words: _I have waited for two decades, what's two months compared to that?_

Two decades. How did I survive twenty years without him?

"Did you think I won't?" 

"Sometimes." He's painfully honest. "I've never been an optimist, Snow. Some things never change."

I swallow and then I say, "Baz?"

"Yes?"

"You called me Simon before."

I can almost hear his smile when he says, "No, I didn't."

I let out a shaky laugh. He's right; some things never change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was obsessively listening to it's time to go by Taylor Swift while writing this chapter. Such a great song yall.


End file.
